Dark Skies
by hannymae
Summary: The racing world wants to see something new. They finally get what they want in the most epic race in history; retired racers come out of retirement just for a chance to participate. Chick Hicks. The King. Lightning McQueen. Cruz Ramirez. Jackson Storm. They're all battling it out for a chance at glory, and they're not the only ones. But something more sinister is going on.[HIATUS]
1. Prologue: Uncertainty

**_A/N: I'm really in no position to be starting any stories... but I realized how much I love Cars this past week and this story idea just came to me. Unlikely I'll ever finish it, but I wanted to do this, so hey..._**

 ** _I'm not planning for the OC in this chapter to be very prominent in the story (but she will be there). She's supposed to be semi-representation of the public and the media. Also, her name is a pun because I couldn't help myself. Alice Uncertain._**

 ** _Characters in the character box could change because I'm indecisive as hell._**

* * *

 _When cars gather, it's normally over a common interest. Perhaps it's a political thing, or maybe something entertaining, like a musical or a fan meet up._

 _But the crowd wants to see something new._

 _Racing on an asphalt track? That's old news. Flying? Went on hiatus and never came back. Jackson Storm isn't the shiny new toy in the toy store anymore, and Cruz "The Royal" Ramirez's golden signature paint job is slowly flaking away in the eyes of the public._

 _Ripslinger's aerodynamics is about as talked about as last year's oil butter spread scandal ("Our butter spread knocks you dead!" Literally, as the case had been) and Dusty Crophopper is more myth than anything else._

 _What the world wants is something fresh and exciting..._

 _And there is only one car who can give it to them._

* * *

The television screen flicked on, and the aerial camera zoomed in on a few of the racers at the front of the line. There was a change of camera angle, and, suddenly, pieces of asphalt could be seen bouncing up and down as the wheels of prestigious racers screeched over the racing track.

Another change of angle allowed the viewer to see the large audience in the stands, most of them flashing their cameras, cheering on their favorite racers, or simply screaming into oblivion.

"Welcome back, folks, to the 2018 Hudson Hornet Memorial Piston Cup! In case you haven't been with us, I'm Bob Cutlass, here with my fellow host and friend, Darrell Cartrip, and extraordinary number cruncher and fresh new voice in the racing world, Natalie Certain!" the voice of Bob Cutlass boomed over the roars of the crowd and the growls of the racers' engines.

"Boy oh boy," said Darrell Cartrip, "All this racing can't be good for my oil pressure, especially when we've got Dinoco's Royal Ramirez and ol' thunder clouds going head to head for the championship! What d'you think, Miss Certain?"

The statistical analyst began to ramble off numbers and factors that no one could understand unless they were a real pie in the sky, and finished off her analysis with a genteel smile. "Even with the numbers ever in Jackson Storm's favor, I've learned not to discount what drive and determination can do in these kinds of high pressure situations. Personally, I've got my money on Dinoco's Royal Ramirez, but it could go either way, honestly."

"Spoken in true Certain fashion!" Darrell appraised, giving the maroon car a grin. He fixed his eyes on the racers below. "And _oh!_ What's this? Swervez has just been walled by Jackson! I repeat; Swervez has just been walled by Jackson! Boogity, boogity, what in tarnation is going on down there?!"

"We all know that Storm's never been quite the same after his first loss to Ramirez," remarked Bob, "Here's to hoping that he doesn't get himself disqualified by using excessive force and violence, like what we saw back in 2005, when retired Piston Cup winner, Chick Hicks, caused a massive pileup. I still can't believe McQueen managed to get around that mess, even after all these years, eh, Darrell?"

"Speaking of good ol' McQueen, hear anything about him coming back for good?" Darrell looked down to where Lightning McQueen, Cruz Ramirez's crew chief, was perched, hoping to get a telling reaction. But there was none; the crew chief was completely in the zone, intent on giving Cruz Ramirez the best advice to beat Jackson Storm.

"Who knows, Darrell? Who knows? The legend says that he's not out of the racing game just yet—"

The television screen flickered off.

Alison Certain yawned.

 _Boring._

 _I've seen more races than I have treads on my tires._

The powder blue car rolled out of her garage and out into the bustling city of Los Angeles, heading down to her favorite gas station cafe.

"Good morning, Alison!" a neighbor called as he watered his flowers, giving her a wave of his tire.

"Oh—good morning to you too, Mr. Patel!" Alison stopped to wave back, only to be met with some honking.

"Don't stop in the middle of the road!" one guy yelled.

"Sorry," Alison muttered, driving on.

Mr. Patel flashed her an apologetic look that she missed.

 _Ignore that guy,_ Alison told herself, thinking about the rude car that had horned her. _You are Alison Certain, not a mathematical genius like dear old sis, but still a genius. Kinda. Not really. Just a single journalist looking for some action in her life. Used to get off on racing competitions. Now it's just overdone and boring. Chrysler, it sounds like I'm reciting my Fender profile._

Not that she had one. She had way too much integrity for that.

She hummed a little song to herself as she entered the gas station for a can of caffeinated hot oil to wake her up.

"Just the usual," she told the waitress that she saw every day. The waitress gave the blue Evolv Motors Provoc Quantus 4S—how lucky of her to be built just like her sister (hooray...)—her 'usual': a can of hot, dark, smooth oil.

"Hey, hey, Certain! You're _certainly_ looking fine today!" A male car drove up to her, his windshields at half-mast.

Alison sighed in fond exasperation. "Hello to you too, Nick. You know, if Vicky were here, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"She'll never know. Besides, I just wanted to talk to you about the big race. I know you're a huge racing fan, especially when it comes to The King. Why, you did get that blue paint job because of him, and kept it after he retired, too. Did you see that win Royal Ramirez pulled off? Chrysler, it was close—they had to examine the video footage and everything. Ramirez only won by a tire tread. Heh, you know what they said about big tires—"

"As much as I wish I could say I watched the race up until the final lap," Alison cut him off, not really wanting to hear anything dirty about Cruz Ramirez's tires, "I didn't even manage to make it that far."

"Huh? But, Certain, you love racing!"

"Used to," Alison corrected, shaking her hood. "It was good when The King was around... But now... it's like I'm rewatching the same race over and over again. Cruz beats Storm. Storm beats Cruz. They tie. Cruz beats Storm in tiebreak. They tie again. Storm beats Cruz in tiebreak. Media can't get enough of it. Thinks that they're in some sort of conspiracy, or even a secret relationship. I have a good source that told me one reporter actually harassed a kid painted in Jackson and Cruz's colors because he thought the kid being a fan of both of them meant that he was their secret love child. Needless to say, he got fired. It was messy. And loud."

Nick's eyes widened.

"You see, Nick," Alison continued to rant, spinning her right tire on the concrete in frustration, "The racing world is getting real old real fast. It has to be, if reporters are harassing little kids and accusing them of being the bastard children of popular racers. Do you know what this means, Nick?"

"From the way you make it sound, I'm not sure if I _want_ to know, to be totally honest."

"Change!" Alison burst out, getting some looks from other patrons. She was certain—hah!—that there were probably way more cars eavesdropping than she currently realized, but she didn't care. "We need something new! Fresh! Exciting! Something that's never been done before."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Nick humored her, his eyes boring into hers.

"Like a... like a..." Alison trailed off, pouting. "I got nothing. Besides, whatever I come up with will be too big and bold to ever be run. It's not like I have any connections, besides my sister."

"Ah, Certain." Nick shook his hood. "You really wind yourself up sometimes, and all for nothing, too. Come here, let's go for a drive. Take a looksie around at our wonderful metropolis."

"Nick, I drive by this road every day for my daily oil fix—I've probably memorized every crack and crevice in the road by now. What's there to look at?"

"Um, ah, how about... oh, would you look at that! A cork board that wasn't there before!"

"Wonderful," Alison said dryly, spinning around to look at the cork board on the outskirts of the gas station. "'Have you seen this car? Well, now you have'. Nice, nice, real funny... whoever made that should become a standup comedian. Hardy-har-har."

"Oh, cut it out. I'm just trying to get you out of this funk. Why don't you go check out the other posters while I buy another drink?"

Nick drove back inside, allowing Alison to privately scan the posters, bored. "What's there to look at anyway? Tutor needed, Danny Swervez expected to be fine for next race, Lightning McQueen making comeback next season, string of thieves in the area, Zündapp escaped, Lightning McQueen marrying long-time love, Sally Carrera... boring, boring, boring!"

Huffing, Alison reversed and rejoined Nick in the gas station. "If only something big could happen. Something crazy and extravagant in the racing world to pick it up again. The reporters, including me, would have a field day..."

As she and Nick left the store together, the latter accidentally bumped into a smaller car.

"Whoops, sorry, pal," Nick apologized, hardly giving the other car a second chance.

"No need," said the other car, and Alison absently thought that his accent was hard to pinpoint.

"I'm going back home to chill and work on my next article," Alison said to Nick as they cruised down the streets of LA. "I was just supposed to come out for a caffeine run anyway."

"No problem," Nick said amiably. "I'm taking Vicky out for dinner in a few hours anyway, so I better get going. Have fun with that article of yours."

"Oh, it's going to be real fun," muttered Alison when Nick left. "Real fun, recounting the big race when you haven't even watched it..." Such was the life of an unenthusiastic-about-racing journalist working for a _racing_ magazine publisher. "If only something explosive and worth writing about could happen... if only."


	2. Looming Clouds

"Thank you!" Sally called after the minivan couple leaving the lobby. "Please come again!"

The female minivan turned and smiled at the Porsche. "Oh, we will, dear," she promised, "I"m going to tell all my friends at Bridge about the Cozy Cone! What a lovely little place..." With that, she drove off with her husband, the two talking as they disappeared from Sally's view.

"Heya, Miss Sally," a female electric car said, rolling up to the desk. "Did I just see our latest satisfied customers make their exit?"

"Yeah, you sure did," Sally said cheerfully, removing herself from behind the counter, releasing a small sigh. "Business is sure booming around here, nowadays. I almost miss the days before McQueen came along."

"Now, Miss Sally," said the electric car, nudging Sally with one tire. "You can't possibly mean that!"

"Of course not," agreed Sally with a chuckle, giving the girl an affectionate pat, "You know me, Ethel; while I do like the cozy, quiet life, I thrive on busy times. Almost reminds me of LA, actually."

"Good for you," said Ethel, reversing just a bit. Ethel Jones had moved from Washington all the way out to Radiator Springs when she'd heard that her idol, Doc Hudson, had been living there the whole time. Unfortunately, he had passed on just a few weeks before she arrived, but she decided to stick around in the end, working at the Cozy Cone as a housekeeper. "Me on the other hand... a quartet of oil could do me some good, y'know what I'm saying?"

Sally lifted her windshields up in amusement. "Oho? And have you finished cleaning up cones three and five yet?"

"Umm... maybe?"

"Get to it then, kiddo, chop chop! Those cones won't clean themselves."

"Alright, alright!" Ethel reversed out the door. "I'll be done in a jiffy, and then you'll treat me to a quartet, you hear me, Miss Sally?"

"Loud and clear, Ethel. But if you don't hurry, McQueen might get here first."

"Damn! I almost forgot that your hotshot fiancé is coming back today." Ethel zoomed off, presumably to clean up cones three and five.

Sally smiled fondly after her ward before driving down to Flo's, where the Sheriff, Mater, and Fillmore were hanging about, making small talk with one another.

"And then I told 'im," Mater was saying, screwing up his face as he recounted a particularly nasty tale from the past, "Tha' if he didn't return mah hood, I'd—well, howdy-doo, Miss Sally!"

Fillmore and the Sheriff said their greetings as well as the Porsche rolled up to them, making space for her to park between Mater and the Sheriff.

"Mater here was just telling us about the time his hood got stolen by that thief in '87." The Sheriff's grill twitched in amusement. "Not that we haven't heard that one a thousand times."

"Hey, man," Fillmore said, "Didn't you say it was a Cadillac who stole your hood last time?"

"Really?" said Sally, smiling, "Because the way I heard it, it was a two-headed tractor."

"Now there's a story for the ages," the Sheriff said, "The version he told me was the most believable compared to the tall tales you two got."

Mater frowned at them... before bursting into laughter. "Aw, shoot, ya'll got me on this one. But I'm tellin' yah, it really was a Cadillac! Honest!"

"Where's Sarge?" Sally inquired after they bantered more about Mater's tall tales. The military vehicle was usually seen beside Fillmore, despite most cars having the impression that they weren't at all fond of one another (it was truly the opposite, really).

"Bootcamp, man," Fillmore, shaking his hood ever so slightly, "Gotta say... respect. Those guys are really sticking it out."

"Oh, they just want their money's worth," Sheriff commented, "All of them city boys are like that."

Suddenly, Ethel pulled up with a screech, holding something in one tire. "Is McQueen here yet?" she asked hurriedly.

"McQueen?" Mater looked around, "Shucks, well, ah can't see 'im anywhere... 'cept for that swanky billboard up there, 'course." The rusted tow truck gestured to a gigantic billboard overlooking the town, which read, _Radiator Springs! Home of Lightning McQueen, 7 time Piston Cup champion!_

"Is something wrong, Ethel?" Sally asked, noticing how riled up the young electric car was.

Ethel gave Sally the newspaper she had been holding, "Here, Miss Sally, take a look at this."

As Sally unfolded the newspaper, Sheriff, Fillmore, and Mater all crowded around her, eager to see its contents. Ever since Radiator Springs had gotten its place back on the world maps, they'd started receiving daily posts and even internet.

"They can't be serious!" exclaimed Sheriff, having skimmed over the entire thing quicker than the others. "The race of all races?! How in tarnation is that going to work?"

"Like, you can't put a plane against a car, man." Fillmore exhaled. "Uncool, racer dudes, uncool."

Ethel stared at Sally, anxiously trying to gauge the Porsche's response.

"I always knew racers were crazy," Sally began, sounding disbelieving, "But I didn't think that they were borderline mental."

The cars all turned to Mater, who was still reading the paper, his eyes moving back and forth across the page.

Everyone's apprehension grew.

"Hey, Miss Sally, what does this word say? The writin' is a lil' smudged." Everyone immediately released a sigh.

"Plane," Sally coached him, "It's a little hard to read, but that definitely says plane."

"Right, right..., Mater smiled at the paper, totally calm.

Fillmore, Sheriff, and Ethel exchanged a glance, waiting for Mater to absorb just what they'd all just read.

Then—

"Holy Chrysler! Cars versus planes?!" Mater did a double take. "Oh, hold on a sec, it says here that..."

"A race around the world," Sally took over, sounding apprehensive. "Like a normal World Prix, except..."

* * *

The phone installed in Cruz Ramirez's trailer rang, and the racer jumped, having dozed off on the ride to Radiator Springs, her home as of last year.

"Huh, wha—who's there?" she mumbled groggily.

"You okay in there?" her driver, Raymond, asked. "Cruz?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Cruz called back before answering the call. "Yelloooo? Oh, hey, Mr. McQueen!"

 _"Hey, Cruz, just calling in with Tex on the other line,"_ Lightning answered, his voice sounding a bit fuzzy over the intercom. _"I'm about to put you on the line with him and me so we can talk about some things."_

"Oh, sure thing! Hook me up whenever you're ready."

Lightning did, and now she, Tex, and Lightning could all hear each other loud and clear.

 _"Howdy again, Cruz,"_ Tex greeted amiably, _"I know it's only been a day since the Piston Cup championships, but something came up and I have a new opportunity to offer both you and Lightning as racers."_

 _"Whoa, hang on a second,"_ Lightning said, bewildered. Obviously, Tex had been keeping him in the dark about a few things as well, _"Racers? Sir,_ _I—"_

 _"Now, now, lemme finish,"_ Tex interrupted, and Cruz didn't realize that she was holding her breath until she started to feel lightheaded. _"Cruz, you still with me here? Yer' awfully quiet today."_

"Oh, uh, yeah! Sorry, I was taking a nap just five minutes ago, so I may be a little groggy, hehe..."

 _"Ah, it's fine. Sorry to have to barge in on your beauty sleep like this, but this kind of opportunity will only ever appear once in a lifetime and it's happening now. And Lightning, hear me out. There's a new tournament starting up in a few months time, and it's a new kind of ride. And what I mean by that is that this kind of event has never been seen or attempted before! A World Prix, 'cept with a twist."_

 _"What kind of twist?"_ Lightning asked, sounding wary.

 _"Now, I don't know the full details myself since I'm not exactly involved with organizing the_ _competition—"_

 _He isn't?_ thought Cruz, blinking in surprise. _But Dinoco always has his tires dipped in every social racing event in the USA! Even in the World Prixs, he's always managed to be involved somehow._

 _"It's organized by them folk in Korea, you see, and the exact rules and details of the championship haven't been released as of yet. However! It's been leaked that the thing is going to be open to planes as well; heck, I don't know how that'll work, but if it does, it's sure to be spectacular! Lightning, this is the perfect opportunity for you to get back in the racing game. And Cruz, it's about time you take centre stage on the world stage."_ His voice grew a bit softer. _"That_ is _what you want, right?"_

 _"Well..."_ Lightning trailed off. _"Well, yeah, actually, but I was picturing my comeback a little differently."_ He sounded guilty, but Cruz had seen this a long time coming; in the past few months, McQueen had taught her everything he knew. Now it was time for him to get back into the game himself. The veteran racer had never officially retired to begin with, anyway.

"Don't feel bad, Mr. McQueen," Cruz encouraged, "Racing is a huge part of your life, and you shouldn't give it up for me. You've already taught me so much."

 _"I know, but I can't help but worry for you, Cruz,"_ Lightning mumbled, _"Not to mention I'm getting married later this year as well..."_

 _"Son, all of us here knows that Sally will support you no matter what when it comes to your racing career,"_ Tex supplied, _"There's no need to worry about your big day too much. You'll have plenty of time to make preparations after the tournament is over."_

 _"Yeah, I guess you guys are right. Sally's always been understanding."_ Lightning chuckled. _"It's one of the things I really love about her. So, Tex, about this tournament..."_

"I'm in," Cruz immediately volunteered herself. "There's no way I'm missing out on a chance to debut on the world stage!" Her eyes blazed as she thought of the time she'd chickened out on the race track—on her very first race. _No more of that. Cruz, you're a big girl now. It's time to float like a Cadillac and sting like a Beemer. Note to self: make original pep talks instead of stealing Mr. McQueen's. I'm going to seize every opportunity I can get to climb up in the racing world._

 _"Same here,"_ decided Lightning, and Cruz could almost see the smirk on his face as he continued, _"I can't let my own pupil outdo me too badly_ — _that'd just be embarrassing."_

 _"Glad you two see things my way,"_ said Tex. _"Expect a lot of tough competition, Lightning, Cruz. Because I hear that this one's gonna be a real doozie."_

* * *

"A World Prix, huh?" Jackson Storm mused as he did over two hundred miles per hour on his simulator, not even looking at his crew chief, who had just informed him about Korea's competition.

"Pretty much, except rumour has it it's with planes," Ray Reverham said, not really appreciating the fact that Storm had his sleek tail fin facing him. "It'd be good for you to have some international exposure. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Storm said, his voice still carrying that lilting tone. He paused the simulator, sliding down the treads and turning around to face Ray. "The day I miss this race is the day I die."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thanks for that review (:**_

 ** _Spurred me to write a new chapter. Will introduce more cars (including OCs and canon) next chapter._**


	3. Thunder Incoming

Ripslinger growled under his breath as he did all sorts of manoeuvres through the air, dodging high cones and spinning loops around the clouds. Finally, he pulled up, did one more loop, and headed straight for the runway. His wheels bounced once, then twice, on the asphalt before he skidded to a stop, his left side facing his trainer.

"Well?" he demanded. "How did I do?"

"Two minutes and forty five seconds," his trainer, a plane built similarly to Riplslinger, reported, a deadpan expression on his face. "Your personal best as of yet."

"Dammit, dammit..." Ripslinger muttered, "It's still not enough..."

"Isn't it? What exactly are you pushing yourself so hard for anyway? Hate to break it you, cousin, but the racing world's not interested in you anymore."

Ripslinger glared at him, his eyes blazing with a fury that would have taken anybody else aback. "And who's fault is that? That _cropduster bastard_ —"

"Oh, shut your pie hole," snapped his cousin, the two heading back to their hangar. "Listen, Rip, that cropduster has it just as bad as you, if not worse. Nobody who's anybody remembers him—at least you still have a sponsor."

"Not for long," Ripslinger said, grimacing, his voice bitter. _Those assholes might think I'm a dumbass, but I sure as hell notice a lot more than they think I do._

"You're right," his cousin conceded, "Which is why you need to convince them otherwise. Convince them not to replace you with some hotshot rookie who thinks he's the king of the world."

"Oh, yeah?" Ripslinger's tone was dry. "And how do you suppose I do that, huh, Jean?"

"Come," was all Jean said, entering the hangar first; it was big enough to house several planes, proof of the luxury that Ripslinger still lived in, despite his complaining. "And take a look at this."

Jean pushed forward a magazine article that looked brand new. "This, Rip, is your big break."

"Who's the cutie?" Ripslinger said, referring to the sleek sports car on the front page. She was a silver-pearl Oullim Spirra, a Korean supercar.

"Dunno, but she's been pretty talked about these past few days. Has something to do with the big race and all."

"Wait, hold on a sec," Ripslinger scowled, "My big break is supposed to be a car race? I don't know what the hell makes you so stupid, Jean, but it sure is working."

"Oh, get off your high horse!" Jean was quickly losing patience for his cousin. "If you'd just let me finish, you'd understand why."

Grumbling, Ripslinger relaxed, gesturing with his wing for Jean to continue.

"We'll start off with the sports car," Jean began, sighing, "If I can remember right, she's associated with the organizers of this crazy ass tournament. Her sponsors _are_ the organizers, I think, and they're betting big money for her and her plane partner to win."

"Plane partner?" Ripslinger echoed. "So just how exactly do planes come in in a car's race?"

But Jean shook his propeller. "No idea just yet; full details haven't been released or confirmed yet. Korea's been pretty tight lipped about this whole affair; anything that's been leaked is very likely to have been been done so on purpose. They want us to know... but not too much. Exhibit A," he gestured to the magazine cover, "What's-her-face..." Jean flipped a few pages into the publication. "Oh, yeah, Hye-rim Jo. Until these past couple of days, literally no one outside of South Korea has known about her. The exposure she's getting right now, as we speak, is just crazy. If that can happen to a nobody like her..." Jean lifted his eyes. "Imagine what this race could do for a somebody like you."

Jean had hardly finished speaking when Ripslinger broke in, "I'll do it. If it means getting big in the racing world again... I'll do it."

Jean closed the magazine, giving his cousin a look. "I'll be rooting for you in the sidelines, then."

* * *

Ishani smiled at the camera, posing in a particular way to please the photographer.

"Good, good!" the photographer praised his prized plane model, giving her a nod as he took some snaps of her. "Now, a little less teeth please, and more pout."

Ishani faltered a little before obliging. "How's this, Mr. Rashid?"

"Perfect! Now keep it like that..."

More cameras flashed, and thought Ishani's eyes hurt from all the blinking lights, she had to bear the pain.

"Thank you, Ishani!" Rashid said when all the photo shooting was done. "Your fans will love this."

Ishani beamed at him, though her smile was slightly strained. "I'm glad you think so, Mr. Rashid. When's my next photoshoot?"

"Ehm..." Rashid rolled his eyes upward in contemplation. "None scheduled in the immediate future just yet. I'll give you a call when I need you back at the studio."

"Oh, well, okay then, Mr. Rashid." Ishani cleared her throat, feeling a little awkward. "I guess I'll be going now..."

"Yes, yes, to." Rashid dismissed her quickly before calling out to someone, "Bashneel! Send some kind rejection letters to the failed candidates."

A muffled "right away, sir!" could be heard as Ishani exited the studio, exhaling.

"The things I do for my fans," she murmured to herself, her paint job feeling oily. A sickening feeling was growing in her hydraulics, and she felt her engine lurch. Ishani had never intended to become a model, and had thought it easy when she finally took on the role as one; she'd been used to cameras being pointed her way by reporters and journalists. But...

The billions of fans she had amassed during her years as a hotshot racer were fading fast, her fan base shrinking scarily by the second. And all for some other girl racer who had appeared in the past few years. She had taken to becoming a model just to win back her fans, but to no avail.

She was still racing in big events, so she'd thought that her career combined with her modelling gig would take in more of her old fans, but...

Ishani shook her head. "If this isn't working, I'm going to need to better myself. Compete in more racers. I'm going to need to—"

Her agent rang just seconds later.

* * *

Francesco Bernoulli sighed in bliss as he received a massage and shining from a high tech machine. He was currently in his high rise mansion in Italy—well, technically, it was he mansion that he had bought for his mother—one that overlooked the sea.

Currently, he was trying to figure out just which race to enter to make it his last. He was going to enter retirement soon and look after his Mama Bernoulli, who had cared for and loved him all his life.

Francesco turned on the television with a voice command, and it immediately showed a newscast that was being broadcasted throughout Italy.

Francesco's eyes widened as he listened to the newscast. "Mama Mia."

This was exactly what he was looking for.

* * *

Golden swirls whipped in the background as the theme song for Chick's Picks with Chick Hicks played, the camera zooming back on the car himself.

"Welcome back to Chick's Picks with Chick Hicks! I'm your host, former _and_ forever Piston Cup champion, Chick Hicks." The intro was always the same; though it was more for the sake of it being a popular meme than anything else.

At first, it'd been about letting the racing world know just who he was and what he had been in the past, and while Chick Hicks was getting tired of the same old gig, his inadvertent ascension to memehood had him and the producers keeping the intro.

"I'm here today with racing gossip columnist Snow Privacy!" Chick inwardly chuckled at the name. _With a name like that, this ought to be good._

A small car rolled onto the stage, grinning. "Thank you, Chick! I am _so_ excited to be here today."

"Anyway, this just in!" Chick all but cut her off, driving in front of her and covering her from the camera's view. "A planes and cars World Prix may be on the brink of, er, existing even more than it already is after the face of the Korean organizers, HanOil, made a pretty wild and bizarre statement on her social media!"

Snow Privacy, scowling behind Chick, drove around him and put on a pretty smile. "Hye-rim Jo is expected to become an even bigger name than she already is in the international racing world. But the statement that she released on Twitter last night really shows her soft side! She's not just a big name—she's got feelings too!" Snow Privacy began to read out Hye-rim's heartfelt message directed to her friends and family via Twitter, and Chick's visage could be seen drooping as he realized that there really was no other news other than this boring old statement.

"And—"

"With all the hype around this cars and planes World Prix," Chick cut Snow off, "I bet a few retired racers are rethinking retirement just for a chance to compete!" It was a spur of the moment sentence, but Chick could see the director nodding at him approvingly off stage. "We might even see the veterans come out to play again," he smirked, "including _that_ old rust bucket of nails." A picture of Lightning McQueen appeared on the golden screen behind Snow and Chick. "Hey, McQueen, if you got the guts to show up... then I'll see you there."

Snow gasped. "What?! You're entering?! But—"

Alison Certain didn't hear the rest as she went slack-jawed, watching Chick and Snow talk on the television. This was exactly what she had been looking for! Something fresh! New! Exciting! And she knew that she wasn't the only one watching this shock episode of Chick's Picks with Chick Hicks and having the same reaction.

There was no way in hell that she was missing this. As soon as more information was released by the organizers, she would be out of LA and flying down to wherever the races began.

* * *

 _ **A/N: This was going to be longer but I got lazy. Everyone in this chapter except Alison Certain, Snow Privacy, Jean, Rashid, and Hye-rim Jo is canon. Hye-rim is going to be one of those OC racers in the World Prix.**_

 _ **I'm used to writing anime fanfiction more than anything else, so I had to go back and correct Jo Hye-rim to Hye-rim Jo, because that would be what she's called in America.**_

 _ **Hye-rim's name is also a pun (rim of a tire...) as is Snow Privacy's (no privacy...) because I'm kind of trash.**_


	4. Weather Rising

A car rolled up to the stage, and all eyes were on her in the darkened room. She shifted her tires against the padding of the stage, eyeing the patrons of the Wheel Well, most of them carrying a drink of some sort.

"Howdy, everyone," she greeted nervously, giving them a winning smile as music began to play. "The name's Jessie Sampson. Now, I'm pretty new to this karaoke business... but this one goes out to all the folks that have experienced some sort of heartbreak or longing in their life."

Murmurs began to circulate, and since there was still time before Jessie started singing, someone called out, "Does wanderlust count?"

Jessie chuckled into the microphone. "Sure does, partner." She listened to the music, taking a deep breath as she began to croon softly, _"She put him out... like the burning end of a midnight cigarette..."_

Cars all looked up to her as they enjoyed the music. Among them were Strip "The King" Weathers and his wife, Lynda Weathers, both of them enjoying a can of organic oil.

"Hey, you," Lynda said to her husband, giving him a side smile. "What's on your mind tonight? You're awfully quiet, you know." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Is it the music? I know it means a lot to you."

 _"Until the night, he put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger. And finally drank away her memory... Now life is short, but this time it was bigger... than the strength he had to get up off his knees,"_ Jessie sang, a few cars started to tap their wheels to the beat.

"Aw, it's nothing," Strip said, shaking his hood, "I got over that ol' sentiment a long time ago, Lynn. It's just..."

"Just what?" Lynda prodded, her eyes growing concerned. "Come on, you old daddy rabbit, you know you can tell me anything." She gave him a peck close to his fender. "Well?"

"Do you remember what Mel said when she passed on?" Strip finally said, frowning slightly as he spoke of his late cousin, Melissa. She'd been in the demolition derby business with Lynda—it was how Strip had been introduced to his now wife in the first place.

Lynda nodded.

 _"With a note that said 'I'll love her till I die'... And when we buried him beneath the willow... The angels sang the whiskey lullaby. Lalalalalalala..."_

"She said that she wanted to see a world where planes and cars could get along." Strip stared up at Jessie, who was pouring her heart and soul in the song. "It was a long time ago, Lynn, but I still remember those tears in her eyes."

"I know," Lynda said softly, biting her lip, "I do, too." _She had so much left to give._

The Plymouth heaved a sigh, and Lynda couldn't help but think that he had suddenly aged a hundred years. "If only she were still here now." He looked outside, where the stars were glowing brightly in the desert sky. "I think she'd love it."

The divide between cars and planes in the 70s and 80s had been much greater than it was now—there'd been segregation and a great degree of racism from both sides. Mel's best friend had been a flightless plane from the ghetto, and they'd spend their lazy days on dirt tracks and muddy fields. Too bad friendships like that were never meant to last.

"She would," Lynda agreed, smiling sadly, "She would have loved to see all the progress this world of ours has made."

Strip was silent as Jessie Sampson moved onto the next verse of the song, getting a few cheers. The girl car was absolutely glowing from all the attention she was receiving on her first karaoke.

Mel used to love singing.

"I want to race again. One last race," Strip blurted. "Lynn, I—"

"I thought so." Lynda didn't sound remotely upset at the prospect of her husband leaving for another race after years of retirement. "How could I blame you, Strip? Racing's in your blood. You have so much more left to show—now I don't mean to be so blunt, but your last race didn't do any kind of justice for your entire legacy."

"Now, now," Strip chuckled, "Don't get too ahead of yourself, dear. I'm not doing this for any of the glory—Chrysler knows that I've soaked up enough of that in the past. But with the cars and planes World Prix coming up as well as Mel's anniversary..."

"I understand," Lynda assured him, "You're doing this for Mel, ain't ya? I've known you long enough to know that the things that you do are almost never about you. It's always someone else." She snuggled closer to him. "Strip, whatever you decide to do next from here, know this—I'll always be behind you."

"Thanks, dear. I wouldn't be nothing without you."

Lynda smirked ever so slightly. "Oh, I know."

Jessie finished her song, and tipped her hood in a small bow, earning a round of applause and cheers. "T-thank you, everyone! This really means a lot to me! Umm... singing is just one of my dreams! Racing is the other, but I'm not exactly built for it! So I'll be tuning in to the upcoming World Grand Prix. I hope everyone else does, too!"

With that, she received even louder praise.

"Why don't we get out of here?" Strip suggested, reversing.

"Way ahead of you," Lynda returned, and the two drove off into the night.

* * *

"Tonight, on the Mel Dorado Show!" Mel Dorado, a 1976 Cadillac Eldorado, commentated as the theme song for his show played. "Big news when it comes to HanOil's upcoming 2018 World Grand Prix; if you tuned to _Chick's Picks with Chick Hicks_ last Friday night, then this should be nothing new to you, but for those that missed it, it goes like this: Chick Hicks, former 2006 Piston Cup winner, has all but announced himself as a participant in the World Grand Prix, calling out seven time Piston Cup champion _Lightning McQueen_ in true Chick Hicks fashion! Which leads me to the question: Can we expect more retired racers to be coming out of the retirement just for a shot at winning HanOil's prestigious race? We've got the face of HanOil, Hye-rim Jo, coming in today to tell us more about the race."

On cue, a silver-pearl Oullim Spirra drove up next to Mel, her complexion flawless and polished.

"Thank you, Mel," she demurred, smiling almost shyly at the cameras that were pointing at her. "It's an absolute pleasure to be here." Her English was nearly perfect; she still carried an accent that was relatively noticeable, but it only added to her charm.

"I must say," Mel said with a chuckle, "The pleasure's all mine, Miss Jo."

"Now hear me out, Mel," Hye-rim said, getting straight down to business, "By now, pretty much everyone involved in the magnificent world of racing has heard of the 2018 World Prix, which is set to include both cars and planes. I understand that most are still in the dark about every single detail of the competition, but I swear to you all that everything will be uncovered soon enough. And about the retired racers... considering all the attention HanOil's race has gotten so far, I would be very surprised if a few veteran racers _didn't_ show up. The competition is open to all the champions with adequate sponsors... as well as those without."

"Well, well." Mel looked quite shocked at that revelation. "Don't you think that would bring down the standard of the competition, Miss Jo?"

"Not at all, Mel." It was Hye-rim's turn to be surprised. Or, perhaps, she simply _acted_ surprised. One couldn't really tell with the Korean supercar. "HanOil isn't really bothered about _standards_ —as long as you're built to race, you can participate. Our race is a bit different from what you normally see in the western industrialized world, Mel, please understand. We want good racers, but we're not going to be picky about it."

"I see," Mel nodded, "Very well then, Miss Jo, thank you very much for your input. I imagine this will shed at least a little more light on the World Prix. Anything else to add, Miss Jo?"

"Oh, why, yes." Hye-rim smiled, and it seemed a little more devious this time. "I probably shouldn't mention this, but I truly cannot help myself. Before you should even think about participating—and since your audience is mostly cars, Mel, I'll put it this way—don't even bother entering if you don't have a racing partner that's a plane. And for planes, it's vice versa—your entry will not be accepted without a chosen car racing partner."

For a moment, Mel just parked there, gaping at her, and Hye-rim could imagine the cars and planes watching at home having the same reaction. So the Oullim Spirra laughed, "I am kidding, Mel. This is what you westerners call a joke, yes?"

"A-ah, right, a joke, yes," Mel muttered.

"Oh, but wait." Hye-rim wasn't finished. "While it's true that you need a plane or car partner to participate, you can still enter without one; HanOil will simply allocate you a partner. This will mostly be in the case for non-sponsored contestants, who we, HanOil, believe will be at a disadvantage when it comes to seeking out a partner." She laughed again, the sound soft and lilting. "Don't worry about it too much—more information will be released at a later date. What I'm telling you now is just something to keep in mind. I look forward to the seeing the acclaimed champions that will inevitably be drawn to the World Prix. Don't forget... my partner and I will also be your opponents, ladies and gentlemen."

* * *

 ** _CARS AND PLANES?! A RACE TO REMEMBER!_**

 _BY ALISON CERTAIN_

 _With the upcoming 2018 cars and planes World Grand Prix around the corner, cars and planes alike are are getting swept up into the hype! The racing world has never witnessed anything like this before; normally, we like to keep flying and racing on the straightaway totally separate_ — _and for good reason! Could you imagine the chaos a planes and cars race would create? This reporter certainly couldn't! But highly acclaimed Korean oil company, HanOil, has somehow found a way to combine the two together in what we can only hope is in a neat and orderly fashion. Hye-rim Jo gave us some insight on its inner workings, but, unfortunately, not enough for us to understand the mechanics._

 _Chick Hicks, one-time Piston Cup winner, has already declared on live public television that he expects to be shuffled into the race, taunting Lightning McQueen while he was at it. How will McQueen respond to Hick's challenge? Are the rumors that he'll be back on the track for the next racing season really true? And if they are, does that mean McQueen will be racing in the 2018 HanOil World Grand Prix? Not to mention, word on the street has it that Strip "The King" Weathers may be on the verge of coming out of retirement for this very race. He and his wife, Lynda Weathers, former demolition derby champion, were overheard in the Wheel Well Motel, Radiator Springs, talking about having The King be competing in the race. Unfortunately, The King was not available for comment._

 _In other news, Lightning McQueen's long anticipated return to the racetrack has been echoed in the form of several impatient fans._

 _"We want to see McQueen race in the World Grand Prix!" exclaimed one enthusiastic minivan. "The races just ain't the same without him."_

 _One six-year-old beetle was left in tears when he realized that rumors of McQueen returning to the straightaway for another season were just that_ — _rumors._

 _"I love watching Lightning McQueen race," he sobbed to this reporter, "Every time he won a race, me and my dad would cheer like there was no tomorrow! I don't want to go to the races no more."_

 _And while this reporter has been on top of the news and opinions with cars, the same can't be said for the planes. Now here's the question to think about: What do_ they _think of the race?_

 _This reporter certainly doesn't have a clue, but expect in the near future to hear some vehement plane voices!_

* * *

"Wow this race is really blowing up a storm," Lightning said as he and Sally watched the television at Flo's together, an encore of last night's Mel Dorado Show, which had blown up in views. "I bet the reporters are having a field day."

"I'll say," Sally agreed, "The media live and breathe this sort of thing—the only thing that's missing is some kind of scandal or conspiracy."

"What, like Allinol?" Lightning joked.

"Honestly?" Sally raised her windshields. "If another oil conspiracy were to happen, I wouldn't even be that shocked. Maybe a little, since HanOil is likely to be bigger than Allinol ever was considering the effort they're putting into this race, but still not that surprised."

"Mm, yeah. Hey, Sal, do you think The King really is racing?"

"Well..." Sally trailed off. "I can't tell, really. We won't _really_ know anything unless we ask him personally."

"Yeah, you're right. Man," Lightning sighed, "I can't believe the amount of publicity this race is getting. It's crazy. And the news about the veteran racers? Considering Chick basically trash-talked me on national television into joining the race, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to have The King entering as well. Heck, I might even see Francesco there." He shot his fiancée an accusing glance. "And before you even start, I _get it_. Open wheels and all."

"Oh, pshaw," Sally scoffed, "I wasn't even thinking about that. But now that you've brought it up..." She gave him a sly glance and he groaned.

" _Sal!_ "

"What? I mean, there's nothing wrong with fenders, but _me-ow_!"

"Sal!" Lightning exclaimed again. "I really _do not_ want to hear you purring over that guy!"

"Oh, come off it, I was just teasing." Sally nudged him playfully. "Will a date at Wheel Well tonight make you feel better, Stickers?"

Lightning glared at her for a little bit longer before his demeanor melted. "Fine," he muttered petulantly, and Sally giggled.

* * *

Jessie Sampson was parked in her bedroom, _this_ much away from squealing in delight. Her karaoke performance at the Wheel Well had been recorded and apparantly gone viral.

She sighed in bliss, feeling like a little kid again. _This... is... awesome!_

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thank you for the reviews! ;w;_**

 ** _Jessie Sampson is NOT a main character, but she has a presence in the story, just like Alison Certain. The song that she sang in the karaoke is called Whiskey Lullaby, sung by Brad Paisley (who sings the Cars 1 and 2 end credits songs) and Alison Krauss. It's so sad and beautiful and I love it a lot. The article by Alison Certain was based off some Daily Prophet articles from Harry Potter._**


	5. Storm Chasers

_**PLANES WELCOME NEW HANOIL WORLD GRAND PRIX WITH OPEN WINGS!**_

 _BY ALISON CERTAIN_

 _After many a question and asking, this reporter has finally gotten her tires on what seems to be a shared opinion among plane-kind! Just like our little racing world on the ground, racing in the air has become as much of a dud as straightaway._

 _"I can't wait to see what this race brings!" said one apple-cheeked 8 Cessna Model 177 Cardinal. "Racing's fun and all, in my humble opinion, but HanOil's World Grand Prix seems absolutely out of this world!"_

 _"I'm all for it," said spokesperson for the United Planes Against Injustice Committee (UPAIC), Blythe Little. "Something like this may seem pretty controversial_ — _and don't get me wrong, it is!_ — _but this is the sort of progressive thinking that UPAIC has been seeking since 67'! It'll promote relations between cars as planes, and give a good example to those who are set to inherit the world after us_ — _the next generation."_

 _"Things have been a little slow," admitted Jean Carruthers, cousin and trainer of renowned racing celebrity Ripslinger. "No doubt my cousin wants to get straight back into the game after his last season. This race is the perfect opportunity." Unfortunately, Mr. Carruthers refused to comment further._

 _As you all can see, dear readers, some popular figureheads are simply "all for" the upcoming HanOil World Grand Prix. This reporter will certainly be on the case of this race, even if it means spending her all of her earnings on plane tickets! What about you, dear readers?_

* * *

Hye-rim flipped through the screen using a remote, scanning each and every competitor.

"What do you think?" a car rolled up next to her. "Hey, isn't that the cropduster?"

"Why, yes," Hye-rim said, "And as for what I think..." She smiled in a genteel manner. "I think it's simply wonderful. Would you be so kind, Assistant Eun-tae, as to escort me to where my family are about to begin dining? I wouldn't want to miss another dinner."

"Of course."

The two cars left the room, the visualizer flickering slightly, causing the image of Dusty Crophopper to waver.

* * *

 _ **Two months later...**_

"Quick!" Suddenly, Mater drove up to Lightning McQueen, who was parked at Flo's and enjoying a can of gasoline after multiple laps around Willy's Butte. "It's an emergency!"

"What?!" Instantly, Lightning was on alert. "Mater, what is it?" _Oh, no, did someone crash? Was there an earthquake? Is Sally okay?_

"I," Mater inhaled, "Saw the newly released roster for the HanOil racing thing, and y'know what?!"

"What?" Lightning was growing more antsy. "Mater, spit it out!"

"I can't speak Korean!" Mater stared at Lightning imploringly.

"... You're kidding, right? Geez, Mater, you really had be going for a sec. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not exactly a master either." Lightning sighed in fond exasperation. It was hard to believe sometimes that his best friend was actually a knight. "Anyway, why are you suddenly so concerned about learning Korean? And what's this about the roster?"

"Aw, well, it goes like this..." Just like that, Mater completely forgot about his dilemma, something that did not escape Lightning (though it did make him smile). The tow truck explained to the racer that HanOil had released the roster of plane and cars partners for the 2018 World Grand Prix just last night, and would be calling all of the racers down to Korea soon for the start of the race.

"Wow, already?" Lightning marvelled after Mater finished his long-winded explanation. "Those Korean cars sure work quick." _In just two months? Something this big should require a lot more time to plan, prepare, and host._ Something didn't sit right with him, but he shrugged it off. Perhaps the Koreans were simply adept organizers.

"You're tellin' me!" exclaimed Mater, "I've been tryin' to brush on mah Korean but all those lines are so dang complicated." He scrunched up his face. "How's this sound: _chee-make_?"

Lightning simply stared at him. "Okay, I'm lost." _Only Mater would_ try _to be fluent in Korean in less than twenty-four hours._

"Aw, shoot," said Mater, frowning, "It's supposed to mean fried chicken and beer. I think."

Well, it sure didn't sound like any sort of fried chicken and beer to Lightning, and he said as much before adding, "Don't worry about it too much, buddy. We won't be the only ones totally lost on the language at the race."

"Did I hear something about the race?" Suddenly, Ethel the electric car was there, having completed her shift at the Cozy Cone. "I was online just a few minutes ago and HanOil's roster announcement is all over my news feed!"

"Beut's feet?" mumbled Lizzie as she creaked past, her head in the clouds as usual. "Now, what are feet, I wonder...?"

"Yeah, we were just talking about that, actually," Lightning informed her. _I wonder if Cruz has gotten the news yet? Considering she's way more in touch with the tech these days, I wouldn't be so surprised._ He sweatdropped. _Geez, I sound so old... I'd better make some new posts on my social media._ And if he thought Cruz was tech savvy, he would simply be beside himself at Jackson Storm's ability to handle the media hounds through _his_ social medias.

"Did you see who Francesco Bernoulli got partnered with?!" Ethel all but shrieked, she being a fan of the open-wheeled racer. Lightning plastered a strained grin on his face at the thought of yet another girl car he knew that fangirled over Francesco.

"Who?" Mater asked.

"This guy who calls himself _El Chupacabra_." Ethel giggled. "Can you believe that? Ain't that Spanish for 'the goat-sucker'?"

"Gesundheit," said Mater.

"It wasn't a sneeze! His name is actually El Chupacabra! Well, his stage name, anyway. I _hope_."

"Yeah, I mean, what kind of car would name their child El Chupacabra?" Lightning joked, hoping to steer clear away the topic of Francesco. He didn't exactly have a problem with Francesco himself, but the way the ladies would purr over him... No. Just, no.

"Gesundheit," Mater repeated, straightening himself. "Boy, Ethel, are you gettin' sick?" He chuckled at her annoyed expression. "Dad-gum, it was jus' a joke! Say, is Mr. Chu Alpaca any good?"

Lightning couldn't help but grin. There went his best friend again—always making a mess out of complicated, foreign names.

"Dunno," Ethel said, also smiling. "I've checked out his website—"

"He has a website?" Lightning asked, mostly to himself.

"—it looks trash in my opinion, but I saw a clip of him racing with Dusty Crophopper, and he don't look half-bad."

"Dusty Crophopper?" Lightning echoed. "Oh, hey, I've heard of that guy. Wasn't he a farmer that became a racer? I followed his race as much as I could."

"Yeah, but he was more of a one-hit wonder than anything else," said Ethel, shaking her hood. "Too bad, he was pretty cute, too."

They talked for the rest of the afternoon, joined by the other colorful residents of Radiator Springs from time to time, and some tourists as well. In a few days, Lightning McQueen would be headed to Korea with his fiancée, Mater, and the rest of his crew.

There were many toasts to the red racer at the Wheel Well that night, and even Cruz Ramirez dropped by for a quick greeting.

She stepped outside just moments later, feeling a bit suffocated by the amount of cars within the interior.

"Whoops, excuse me," Cruz said as she dodged a minivan couple. "Pardon me..." She continued to swerve around patrons, finally finding herself at the edge of the vicinity. "Phew..." She was starting to drive off again when another car drove right past her, causing her to stop in her tracks. It was a sight she had seen many times on the racetrack. The rear end of Jackson Storm. "Hey, Storm!" The words were out of her mouth before she even knew it.

The black car ignored her and continued to drive forward. Cruz bit her lip, feeling foolish. He had undoubtedly heard her call out to him, and made it clear that he wanted to avoid her as much as he possibly could, which was not uncommon when he wasn't in the mood for belittling her.

Sighing in frustration, she caught up him, unwilling to be still staring after him like an idiot. "I said hey, you know. Usually, when cars say 'hey', you say 'hey' back."

Storm finally turned around, giving her a frosty glare. "Costume girl. _Hey_. Happy?" With that, he prepared to continue on his way, but Cruz wouldn't let him go that easily.

"Whoa, hold up a sec!" _The_ Jackson Storm hanging out in Radiator Springs? Cruz just had to know the story behind this one. "No offence and all, but why are you here?" She raised a brow. "I mean, Radiator Springs is great and all... but I never thought that it'd be your kind of scene."

"It isn't," Storm answered curtly, averting her gaze. "Look, Costume Girl," he added, his scowl deepening ever so slightly. Had he not been around Cruz for such a long time, he would have definitely snapped some kind of very, _very_ degrading insult at her. "If you really must know, Ray sent me here to get away from those hyenas."

Cruz nodded, knowing that he was referring to the tiresome reporters and flashing cameras.

Sensing another question, Storm supplied, "This is the last place they'd ever expect me to be." He sneered. "Hillybilly hell." With that, he drove off with a sort of finality that simply left Cruz uncomfortably staring after him, turning away when he disappeared down a slope.

Then she paused. Knowing that he couldn't have gotten far, even if he was no longer in her line of sight, she shouted as loud as she could, buzzed with energy, "GOOD LUCK, STORM! I'M NOT GONNA GO EASY ON YOU!"

If he was still the Jackson Storm that she knew (a callous, aggravating asshole that she still worked halfheartedly to befriend), he'd say something back, because Jackson Storm didn't like it when someone else got the last word in. Cruz eagerly waited for his dry, cutting response, jumping on her front tires ever so slightly.

Somewhere in the night, there was a hoot. Cruz deflated before shaking her hood. _Should have expected as much. I mean, come on, he's Storm. Jackass extraordinaire._ She didn't like to think such negative things about others, but Jackson Storm was an entirely different story.

"Hey, Cruz, what are you doing out here by yourself?" Lightning rolled up to her, concern in his blue eyes. "Why don't you come join the party?"

"Hm? Oh—I was just getting a little fresh air!" Cruz grinned at him, the action slightly crooked. _Come on, girl, don't let Storm put a damper on your spirits!_ "But now that you mention it, a refreshment would be nice."

"That's the spirit!" Lightning escorted Cruz back into the Wheel Well. "Guido makes great..." He rambled off the name of some drink, but Cruz was no longer paying much attention.

 _Jackson Storm,_ she resolved, her gaze flashing with at the prospect of a challenge, _This race is mine. You're not going to be able to look down on me after_ this.

* * *

"Have you checked the roster for your partner yet?" Sally asked when she and Lightning cruised back to the Cozy Cone.

"Yeah, but," Lightning frowned, "It doesn't have anyone listed."

"What?" He could practically see the gears turning in Sally's brain as she comprehended what that meant for her soon-to-be husband.

"Tex is already looking into it," Lightning informed her. "I—" The phone attached to his person rang. It was something he wasn't used to yet, but was quickly adapting to. "Sorry, Sal, speak of the devil."

"Oh, take your time," Sally said encouragingly, "I'm just as curious about this as you are."

Shooting his beloved a grateful glance, Lightning picked up, "Hello, Tex?"

 _"Howdy, McQueen! Just callin' in to inform you that I've spoken with the officials and they've told me this: You'll meet your plane partner on the day of the race. I know, son, it sounds like a load of tractor crap to me as well, but you're going to have to wait a little while longer until your partner is revealed. Apparently, there was some kind of glitch in the system, but the Koreans are saying that they have faith in your abilities to adapt."_

"Wow, uh..." Lightning was at a loss for words. While he was flattered, this really was some bad luck. "Well, I guess it can't be helped. Thanks anyway, Tex."

When the call ended, Sally looked inquisitively at Lightning. "Well, Stickers? What did he say?"

He repeated the short conversation to Sally, whose frown only deepened.

"Stickers..." she trailed off. _This doesn't feel right at all. I mean, I get it since less experienced racers are going to be participating as well, but..._ "You know what? We can think about this in the morning. Let's get some shut-eye for now."

Lightning nodded, visibly relieved. It was nearing the early hours of the morning. "You're right. See you in the morning." He gave her a kiss, which she happily returned.

"You too, Stickers. You too."

* * *

"NOOOO!" Mater shrieked when the female lead in the drama he was watching collapsed in a dead faint, the tow truck earning death glares from nearby passengers that were trying to nap.

Team McQueen (composed of the car himself, Mater, Guido and Luigi, Sarge, and Filmore), were currently on their final flight to Seoul, South Korea, after many a plane-hopping. They were all exhausted at this point, but Mater still had enough energy to squeeze in just one more episode of the k-drama he was had binged on during the previous flights.

Lightning let out a small groan as he was roused from his sleep, groggily blinking at Mater. "Hey, Mater, do you think you could keep it down...?"

"But, McQueen! _Soo-mi_ jus' _fainted_ an'—"

But Lightning wasn't interested in the main lead's fainting episode. "Mater. Sleep. Now. Or you'll be too tired to drive when we arrive."

"Yeah, hush!" Ethel (Sally had invited her along after lots of pleading from Ethel's part and hesitant agreement from Flo to run the Cozy Cone while they were gone) added from the back, glaring around the side. "I'm so jetlagged you wouldn't believe it!"

Slightly bashful, Mater bowed his head slightly to him and said in butchered Korean, _"Mee-anh-hae."_

 _This is bad,_ Lightning thought as he woke up a little more. _Mater's starting to immerse himself more in the culture!_ At this rate, only Chrysler knew how many Koreans Mater would inadvertently insult during their stay in Seoul. It would be a repeat of Japan all over again. "Hey, uh, Mater? Why don't you just stick to English? It sounds a lot more... natural."

"Well, if you say so, McQueen... But ah' still..."

Lightning never got to hear what Mater had to say for himself next, having fallen right back asleep.

On the same flight, Alison Certain fidgeted in her seat in economy class. There was a rather bulky minivan snoring next to her, sagging toward her direction. Alison cringed. _Keep it together, Certain. It'll be all worth it in the end._

* * *

 ** _A/N: Annnnnd... the gang are off to Korea._**

 _ **치맥 and** **미안해 were used and abused. I'm not very well-versed with Korean (I am Chinese Malaysian... -v-'') but google tried its best.**_

 _ **I know we're not seeing much of the planes, but they'll appear a lot more often pre-competition and during the race as well (hopefully, kek). This update was supposed to come earlier but I went away on school camp.**_

 _ **R &R~ :')**_


End file.
